


can you hear me, achilles?

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tommy is only mentioned, Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot Angst, Wilbur Soot Hears Voices, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur Soot is Not Okay, and they aren’t nice :(, based off of my personal experiences, could be DSMP pre-canon if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29495391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Wilbur is at the end of his rope. He can’t do this anymore.
Relationships: Phil Watson & Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Comments: 28
Kudos: 208
Collections: Anonymous





	can you hear me, achilles?

**Author's Note:**

> tw suicide attempt, implied self harm (about two words at the end but be careful), suicidal thoughts/ideation

Wilbur is so tired of all the noise. 

_—aw he’s mean good please don’t support parasocial relationships bad wilbur friendship means nothing to him fs in chat we aren’t friends we are friends go fuck yourself—_

He’s tried everything at this point, every fucking coping mechanism he could get his hands on for just a few seconds of blissful silence, but they won’t. go. away. They had been a blessing when they had appeared during the Sky Gods’ games, keeping him company through the chilling isolation and comforting him after... Schlatt. Now, though? Now they are nothing but a curse, slowly driving him insane as they rage and scream for entertainment that Wilbur can not give. 

_—kill yourself idiot do a flip into the lava bullet in the brain go squish hehehe e what a fucking loser not pog super boring do something already—_

Wilbur hopes Tommy won’t hate him for this. He doesn’t want to leave him, but he knows that Tommy doesn’t really need him anymore. Hopefully the note he left would clear up any misconceptions; Wilbur would hate for his little brother to blame himself for nothing. Unlike with Tommy, he hadn’t bothered asking forgiveness from Techno or Phil in the note — he doesn’t think either of them would particularly care if he fucked off and died (— _they’re hoping for it they want you dead glad you got with the program thank fucking god you stopped lying to yourself—_ ), and he doesn’t blame them. Wilbur knows that he’s dead weight, a stain on their perfect little adventuring family with the way he can’t fight, with the way he’s stuck in bed more hours than not, forcing someone (usually Tommy) to keep an eye on him. With the weak link gone, though, they can finally take Tommy with them too. 

_—idiot he hates you holy shit get it over with god you talk to much somebody shut his mouth burn alive wither away please—_

It almost looks intimidating, the way the glowstone illuminates the lightly swaying rope in the tree. It’s a perfect noose, fingers skilled from years of building snares and traps... though he never thought he’d be using those skills for this, though. The tree isn’t anything special, just one old warped tree among many, but there is one difference: the carved _W + T_ at the base of the tree. It’s faint and scarred, but it’s recognizable.

 _—oh look at that he actually thinks it mattered wow what a fucking loser this is embarrassing fs in the chat everyone i’m not paying respect to this pathetic piece of shit—_

It had been their promise. An exchange of blood, an unbreakable vow to be there for each other during the worst and best of times. _So much for that_ , Wilbur thinks with a snort. Still, he’s glad the tree was able to grow tall and proud. There’s no other place he would rather die alone in. 

He knows that there’s only one person would think to check here, and he won’t be home for weeks... if he even bothers to check. Wilbur will be long dead, body strung up in the same forest that birthed him. It’s a fitting end, really. 

_—get on with it already omggg this is taking so long ugh—_

With a quiet sigh, he takes one last look across the Nether. For a second, he swears he sees flashes of bright pink and green, but it has to be a trick of light because they’re gone as soon as he looks again. Maybe his brain is trying to make things up, to get him to go back and rip up the note before Tommy wakes. 

_—wow someone’s self-centered believe me no one wants you to go back just die already drama queen—_

“Alright, alright,” he mutters, “I’ll get to it.” His adam’s apple bobs as he takes the noose in hand. This is going to hurt. Asphyxiation isn’t a fun way to go, but it’s quick and generally not messy. With a deep breath, he pulls his head up and through the rope, letting gravity do the rest. His fingers instinctively fly up to claw at the twine as it constricts around his neck, thick and unrelenting, but even through the haze of his body’s panic as it flounders for oxygen, Wilbur forces them back down again. 

_—yes he actually did it poggggg let’s go deadbur soot you did the right thing gentlemen it’s been an honor—_

It hurts, it hurts so much more than he thought it would, but that’s okay, it’s alright, it won’t last long. Already, there are black spots littering and dancing in his vision, a heavy weight in his chest that’s starting to lighten as pressure runs to his head. Wilbur will die with no regrets, there will finally be no more weak link, and it’s such a _relief_. Finally, he’s doing something worthwhile with his life. It helps that the voices seem to be getting quieter, more muffled as it gets harder and harder to keep his eyes open. He shuts his eyes for what feels like the final time—

 _Thwack!_

—and then they fly open again as the rope is suddenly sliced in half, sending Wilbur plummeting to the ground and knocking the wind both in and out of him. The voices rage at him, but Wilbur can hardly focus on them as he blearily stares up, trying to comprehend what exactly just _happened._ Are those... arrows sticking out of the tree? 

“ _Wilbur!_ ” Someone screams, and before he can react, he’s tackled to the ground, forest green fabric in his eyes. Phil? But it can’t be, he and Techno aren’t supposed to be home yet. Two strong arms wrap around him, pull him tightly against Phil’s chest, and he can only stare numbly as static and screaming roars in his ears. He can barely register whatever Phil is babbling as he strokes his hair like he’s nothing more than a child; there’s only the limp noose around his neck. 

_—dadza get out omfg phil ffs wilbur jump into a lava lake try to get him to leave why is he even here—_

“Don’t listen to them.” Wilbur jolts as Phil moves to grab him by the shoulders. “I’m fucking serious, mate. They don’t know jack shit.” His eyes keep straying to the unraveling rope around Wilbur’s neck, and after a moment of hesitation, he’s quick to take it off, ignoring the noise of protest that escapes him. 

“ _Stop_ ,” he finally manages out, shoving the elder away and scrambling back, back hitting the tree. Phil regards him like a wild animal, keeping his hands up in what’s supposed to be a placating gesture, but it really only pisses him off now. Why the hell would he come _now?_

_—he wants you to suffer fodder probably maybe he wants to make himself feel good does it even matter—_

Wilbur narrows his eyes, a snarl tugging on his lips as he shakily stands, gripping the bark to support himself. “You didn’t say you were coming home early.” 

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Phil replies softly, “Mate, let’s just go home. Tom’s- Tommy’s not even awake yet. C’mon, we’ll fix this—“ 

“This isn’t some dragon you can slay, _Killza,_ ” Wilbur hisses. “You can’t use your sword here. Just leave. It’s the only thing you know how to do well anyway.” There’s a twinge of guilt at the hurt expression on his father’s face, an apology already bubbling up in his throat, but he shoves it back down. It’s time for Phil to see his true colors, see the weak disgusting little leech he had let into his life so long ago. 

“Oh, Wil...” Instead of the expected anger, instead of Phil turning away and flying off, he just looks _sad_ , as if Wilbur just hadn’t just insulted him to his face. He doesn’t understand why, and he— he—

 _—mocking little son of a bitch can’t believe him fuck him asshole make him go away already he never loved you it’s just pity what a piece of shit—_

He just wants to die.

Wilbur glances into the forest behind him. He’s still feeling a bit weak in the knees, but he knows this place like the back of his hand, and he also knows that there’s a few pits that’ll surely kill him. All he needs to do is lose Phil, which, considering the terrain, shouldn’t be too hard. The older man had never been one for narrow and claustrophobic spaces. 

Phil takes a step forward, reaching out. “Wilbur—“ 

He turns tail and runs into the forest, leaving Phil to chase after him. Even after all the years, ducking and weaving between the tree trunks is as easy as breathing air, the forest gladly opening up for its old inhabitant. Wilbur embraces it; this is going to be the last thing he ever feels, after all. Pink flashes in his peripheral, but as soon as Wilbur turns his head, it’s gone. It’s not something he can dwell on, not when Phil is still tailing him, adjusting and catching up fairly quickly in spite of his many disadvantages. 

Not quick enough, though. 

Wilbur twists and turns and tries to lose Phil in the trees. When it comes to endurance, there’s no way he’s beating the elder, but when it comes to tricks... well, Wilbur knows a thing or two about illusions. Still, he notes as Phil seems to stutter between stopping and chasing him while glancing down at his communicator every few seconds, it doesn’t feel like he’s actually trying. The thought shouldn’t hurt that much. It’s what he wants, after all, but still...

Whatever. He shakes his head and continues on, and soon the green fades out of sight amongst the blue, and he can finally stop for a moment to regain his breath. It had taken a lot out of him, but now he could finally kill himself, even if it wouldn’t be exactly the way he wanted. Wilbur glances around. Everything’s vaguely familiar, but he’s pretty sure there should be a spike pit if he turns left, and there it is. 

_—about time thank fuck cmon let’s break twitch’s tos already gentlemen it’s been an honor it really was never meant to be huh—_

“Let’s not drag this out,” he mumbles. With one last long glance at his birthplace, Wilbur unceremoniously jumps, letting gravity drag him down—

A hand wraps around the collar of his shirt, forcefully tugging him back despite his curses and scrambling. Wilbur kicks and screams at the top of his lungs as the older twin drags him away from the edge, eyes sad under a hard and unflinching façade. “ _Let me go! I hate you!_ If you loved me, you’d let me do this!” 

Techno just shakes his head, holding him tight and close, keeping him firmly against his chest no matter how much he screams and struggles. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs, and Wilbur wants to _scream._

So he does. 

He screams, and he kicks, and he wails, shouting obscenities as he fought and kicked. All the while, Techno just keeps muttering that it’ll be okay as he tugs them to sit, and that only makes him scream _more._

“ _It’s not going to be okay!_ ” Wilbur shrieks, “ _I’m_ never going to be okay! I just— I just— I just want to _die_.” Hot tears start to roll down his face, and the elder twin only tugs him closer, letting him bury his sobs into his chest. “I just want them to be quiet... please, Techie...”

“... I know, Wil,” Techno says in an uncharacteristically soft tone, wrapping his cape around him and rocking him gently, the old childhood gesture familiar and comforting. Wilbur buries his face further, shaking as more hiccuping sobs wrack his body, clinging to him as tightly as he can. 

_—fucking loser so pathetic holy shit the pit is right there just jump blood for the blood god make your brother proud he wants you to jump he wants you to jump he—_

“Tell me what they’re saying.” Wilbur jolts, looking up at Techno. “I can tell you’re talking to them. What are they saying?” 

“It’s... you don’t want to...” 

“I want to hear it. You listen to me; let me listen to you.” Techno runs a hand through his matted curls, pushing them out of his face. “Please.” Any protests die on his tongue at the sight of his brother’s red rimmed eyes. 

Wilbur breaks. 

“They want me to jump. They— They’re saying that you want me to jump, and of course you do, you and Phil both, I’m such a fuck up, I need to— I shouldn’t have left that—“ He chokes on a sob as Techno holds him tighter, closer to his chest. 

“They’re wrong. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I need you to understand that they’re wrong, Wil.” 

“But they’re so _loud—_ ” Another weight surrounds them, soft feathers brushing against them. Phil’s dark wings block out everything around them, a safe and comfortable darkness. 

“I know, mate. We’ll figure out a way to keep them quiet, but we need you to come back home with us for that to happen. Okay?” Phil’s voice is strong yet gentle, and despite the cacophony of screaming in his head, despite their promises of eternal relief, Wilbur latches onto only his voice and Techno’s grounding weight. He nods, throat too sore to try for a response. 

Phil seems to relax at this, a wet chuckle escaping his lips. “Good, good. Wil, we’re gonna go home, get your throat checked out, and then I’ll brew you some potions I used to make for Techno when he had trouble sleeping, alright? All I need you to do is to keep hanging on to Techno. Can you do that?” Wilbur nods again, clinging to the elder like he’s a lifeline. Techno doesn’t seem particularly keen on letting him go either, keeping a nearly bruising grip on his arm as they make their way out of the Nether, never once letting him go amidst the rocky terrain.

The cool air of the Overworld as they step out of the portal nearly makes Wilbur cry. Dawn paints the sky in dusty light blue and oranges, an almost beautiful sight that he wants to stop and take in, but exhaustion pulls at his bones and the voices scream and Wilbur just wants to go to sleep. The house is quiet when they walk in, and Techno all but drags him to the couch. “We’re sleeping here for the night,” he says firmly, leaving no room for argument — not that Wilbur has any fight left in him anyway. 

Techno’s fingers are gentle as he treats the bruises and rope burns along his neck, notably a lot more careful than he usually would be. It almost feels like they’re treating him like a turtle egg, fragile and small, and maybe once he would’ve kicked up a fuss. Right now, though, he leans into his touch, focusing on it, the sound of the potion stand in the kitchen, on anything but the screaming in his head that simply won’t stop. He feels dull, hollowed out and tired, a rusty tool that won’t shine again, and he still can’t completely understand why they won’t drop the weak link. He can’t bring himself to ask. 

“Drink this,” Phil says, handing him the potion, “It’ll help you sleep until we find a more permanent solution.” Wilbur takes it, watching the liquid slosh around. 

_—there’s already a more permanent solution coward smh you could’ve been free already—_

He tosses it back as fast as he can. 

“Wil! Don’t choke!” 

“‘m fine,” he yawns. It’s already starting to take effect, his eyelids feeling heavier and heavier. The voices are still so loud, but they aren’t enough to fight off the pull of sleep. Phil pulls his head into his lap, gently running his fingers through his hair. “Tech...?” 

A hand laces through his. “I’m here,” the older twin assures, “Go to sleep, Wil.”

“‘kay...” His mouth feels like cotton, words getting harder and harder to string together “Tech? Phil?” 

“Yeah, Wil?” 

“‘m sorry.”

Phil sighs, quiet and sad. “It’s alright, mate. Just get some sleep, okay?” Wilbur nods, eyes too heavy to open again. As unconsciousness pulls him into its folds, his ears catch scraps of hushed conversation. 

_”...his room...”_

_”You... harm himself...?”_

_”...stay with...”_

_”Do... tell Tommy?”_

Before Wilbur can even realize it, the hushed tones have lulled him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> The minute c!Wilbur started lashing out and stopped exhibiting the “nicer” traits of someone who is depressed and traumatized, the fandom immediately demonized him, to the point where they’re completely reframing moments where he spiraled in a much more sinister light. Take the ‘let’s be the bad guys’ speech for example. 
> 
> Many depict this scene as him being violent, touching Tommy or acting in an almost threatening manner, but if you look back on the VOD, Wilbur rarely comes close, and he never goes further than speaking distance. The only acts of violence were from Tommy himself, who hit Wilbur during his rant. 
> 
> Everyone is allowed and entitled to their own personal artistic interpretation of the scene, but it’s clear that despite the evidence, the general consensus of the fandom is that _Wilbur_ is the threat during that conversation, even though he hadn’t _done_ anything threatening at all at that point.  
> You could say it shows how normalized violence has become against the mentally ill (the “beating sense into him” jokes), and how easily it is to slip into the demonization of the mentally ill who don’t fit the easily sympathetic, sad, and soft mold.
> 
> In this essay, I will


End file.
